The war against the Scourge ended the moment Tirion Fordring cut Frostmourne in two. In the end, both power-hungry, bloodthirsty Death Knights like Taelan and doorkeepers like Malgor, who had wanted to avenge their former master, bowed before Bovar once more. Fordring had been right: the moment the true Lich King donned the Helm of Domination, he was destined to become the Scourge's master. Bovar had believed he needed Frostmourne in his hands to command the Scourge only because the cursed blade had bewitched him. Though Bovar had regained his senses, he still resented the Horde. But this resentment did not spark another war between the Horde and the Scourge. For the sake of peace, Bovar was willing to keep his feelings in check.
But was there truly peace? This grand Northern Expedition was only just beginning, because their enemy had only now begun to bare its fangs.
"Sylvanas—"
"Who? Who's calling me?"
"Sylvanas—"
"Who are you?!"
"Sylvanas!"
At last, after hearing her name called again and again, Sylvanas opened her eyes. The moment she did, she saw several Valkyr.
"Who are you? Where am I?"
She had no idea where she was. Sylvanas's memories ended at the moment she and the other six—Soraka and the rest—had been killed by King Loken.
"I... wasn't I dead? Then why am I here?"
Sylvanas stared blankly at the dim, pale world around her and murmured to herself.
"Sylvanas, your memories are right. You are dead. The place you're in now is where the dead go: the Shadowlands."
"The Shadowlands? The place where the dead go? If I'm dead, why can I still see, hear, and speak? Why can I still feel emotions?"
"Sylvanas, you can still feel these things because we pulled your soul back. That's why you haven't become like